Davis and I were pushing on with all possible speed in the
direction of the place we expected to find Maloney's trail, when
we heard two pistol shots in quick succession further up the
canyon, so we put our horses down to their utmost in the direction
from whence the sound of the shots came.
After running about two miles we came in sight of a small fire a
short distance away that seemed to be but just kindled. We dashed
up at full speed and found Mike tied to a stake and two Apaches
piling brush on the fire. We fired at the Indians through the
gathering darkness, but only killed one, and the other one made
off about as fast as you ever saw an Indian go. Jim kicked the
fire away from Mike and cut his bonds before he was burned to
speak of. I asked him how he came to be taken prisoner by just two
Apaches, and his story ran like this:
"Oi'll tell ye, Captain, it was on that sage-brush hill there
while I was ridin' along I saw a thrack in the sand and sure I was
that it was not the thrack of an Injun for it was a dainty little
thing and the hollow of the foot didn't make a hole in the ground
like an Apache's and Apaches niver wear shoes, aither. Well, I got
off me horse and stharted to follow the thrack, and whin I got to
that bunch of brush the dhurty rid divils sprang out on me like a
pair of hounds, tied me hands and fate, and was tryin' to burn me
aloive whin ye's came up.
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